


Dreams

by threerings



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2004-07-16
Updated: 2004-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-03 00:46:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threerings/pseuds/threerings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione starts having the most unlikely erotic dreams. . .  Snape/Hermione</p><p>Warnings in later chapters for dubious consent, domination/submission, light BDSM</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> A story that was really just an excuse for porn. Abandoned after 4 chapters, but delivers on the porn.

In this one she was wearing her old school uniform. She wore the pleated skirt, white blouse, and Gryffindor tie of her Hogwarts uniform, but without her robe. She was opening the door to the potions classroom, knowing she was late, and fearing what the repercussions might be. It was dark in the dungeons, as it always was without the feeble sunlight that came through the murky windows during class.

"You're late, Miss Granger." Snape was standing in front of his desk with his arms folded. "What is the purpose of my giving you detention, if you don't even have the respect to arrive on time?"

"I'm sorry, sir." Her voice was higher than she was used to hearing, and more uncertain. "I was in the library and I…"

"Did I ask for your excuses?" Her eyes were focused on his dark figure, the rest of the details of the room seeming out of focus.

"No sir." Her eyes dipped back down to study her clothing.

"Ten points from Gryffidor, Miss Granger. Now get to work." He gestured to a wooden bucket of sudsy water and a scrub brush that she could now see on the floor at his side. "I expect these floors to be sparkling, and no magic." Hermione studied the stones of the floor surrounding her. They looked fairly clean, for a dungeon. She moved forward slowly to take up the scrub brush. She was aware of Snape moving behind her, sitting down behind his desk. The bucket was much too close to his desk for her comfort, only about four feet from where he sat. Hermione knelt down on the cold stones and reached for the brush. Surprisingly, the stones did not hurt her bare knees.

As her fingers closed on the scrub brush, she realized that her skirt was far too short. Even worse, she wasn't wearing any underwear! Hermione's faced burned with humiliation, knowing that Snape was watching her, that he could see everything. Yet she could not get up, could not reach behind her to pull down her skirt, could not do anything but wet the brush in the bucket and start to drag the brush across the stones.

Hermione felt the heat of his gaze on her. Felt her backside burn with it, her exposed sex moistening against her will. She heard the subtle movements behind her which told her that Snape was shifting in his chair. She continued to scrub, stretching her body out to wet more of the floor, rocking back onto her heels as she drew the brush back to her. Her movements were slow, agonizingly slow. The muscles in her thighs and arms burned from the tension of holding herself up while continuing to scrub the floor. She could not shift her legs to move from her spot and so she continued to stretch farther away with her arms, trying to reach the dry stones in front of her.

As she shifted her weight backwards again, her bottom came to rest, not on her heels, but on a pair of hands. The hands felt impossibly large, cupping her cheeks, starting to kneed at her flesh. Hermione's breath caught, and the brush fell forgotten from her hands. The hands pushed her up, so that she was once more on all fours, this time without the brush. Her hands slipped on the wet stones, extending in front of her until her face was almost touching the floor. The hands continue their massage, fingers occasionally slipping lower, closer, almost. . . Hermione became aware of her breasts, loose and hanging heavy within her thin blouse, the nipples dragging lightly against the stone floor. Her nipples stiffened in response to the stimulation of the rough floor combined with the cold of the sudsy water penetrating her shirt.

She must have gasped because she heard a soft laugh from behind her, followed by another push on her bottom. The strain of her position was nearly painful, but strangely enough the stones were still soft on her knees. Without warning, a thumb penetrated her wet folds. She heard a long moan escape her throat. Without her consent, her body pressed back into the hands, demanding more.

Only then was it that part of her mind spoke up, realizing, "Oh my god! I'm having detention with Snape and he's, oh god, he's fucking me." Another part of her mind objected, pointing out that things had hardly gotten that far yet, while her body told her to relax, this was going to be fun. All thought fled from her mind as Snape's thumb pressed up inside her. Her back arched as she made a noise approaching a pant.

Snape's hands responded to her movements by pushing her back towards the stones, settling his thumb more firmly inside her. It was joined soon after by his other thumb, both working inside her while his fingers maintained their grip on her ass. Hermione was conscious of her own moans and gasps while she found herself rocking backwards and forwards, now trying to deliberately brush her nipples across the stones. One of Snape's hands shifted then, his thumbs continuing to work in and out of her while the fingers of his right hand slid around to rub the length of her sex. Hermione was lost now, her body wantonly rocking into his hands.

"Oh god. More," she demanded, no longer thinking at all. The response of the body behind her was a withdrawal of the hands and a soft laugh. Hermione gave a shout of indignation which became a gasp as the hands grabbed her hips and pulled her backwards. She was shocked to feel his cock slide easily into her, continuing the slow, steady rhythm his hands had begun. His thrusts pressed her forward as the weight of his long, thin body settled against her. She felt his chest lower to rest on her back, his hair brushing across her neck before his lips did the same. He continued to rock slowly into her, his groans joining hers. All Hermione could feel anymore was the pleasure of his cock inside her, and the pain shooting up her arms from supporting both their weights. After two more somewhat quicker thrusts, her arms collapsed, shaking as much as the rest of her. She hit the stones hard, his full weight on top of her, and cried out. So quickly that she wasn't sure what was happening, he had removed himself from on top of her and from inside her and had turned her around. She was now laying with her back to the floor, and she could see him.

His face was contorted in what could have been fury, or could have been desire. His dark eyes flashed at her. She had time to realize that he was fully naked before he descended onto her once more, his hands reaching for her wet blouse. He opened her blouse with one swift movement, taking one of her nipples into his mouth while covering the other with his hand. Hermione's back arched into him and her hands reached up to bury themselves in his hair. He sucked and bit at her nipple greedily, releasing it with a groan before he lowered his mouth to the other. When he had finished with his rough treatment of this nipple as well, he moved his hands back to her hips and buried himself inside her again. It seemed that everything had sped up again. His thrusts were faster and rougher, his mouth returned to her right nipple. All Hermione could do was feel, and moan. Her legs had come up to surround his hips of their own accord. The next few moments (minutes, hours?) were a blur of sharp pleasure. Hermione's body was tense and shaking with pleasure and near pain as she cried out.

She opened her eyes to take shuddering breaths of air. Her sheets were twisted around her legs, her body covered in sweat and shaking. Pleasure throbbed through her, centered deep inside her and between her legs. She closed her eyes and struggled to sink back into the dream, to reach that climax which had been denied her. Her body rocked against her blankets, seeking stimulation. All at once, she froze.

'My god,' she thought. 'I didn't just….oh my god, Snape!' She rolled over and buried her head in her pillow. 'How am I ever going to face him tomorrow?'


	2. Two

For several minutes Hermione lay in her bed in stunned silence. The dream ran relentlessly through her mind. Something approaching panic was spreading through her chest. 'How could she have a sex dream about Snape? Of all people?'

'Alright, Granger, get a hold of yourself,' she told herself. 'You've been stressing about this presentation to him for weeks now. You were up 'til three last night going over your notes and reviewing your bibliography. It's completely natural that your anxiety should express itself in your subconscious. Completely normal. Now get up and get a shower!'

Having talked herself out of bed, Hermione took her own advice and headed for the bathroom. She had made an appointment with Snape for 10 AM at Hogwarts . If she started getting ready now, she would still have time to go over her notes once more.

Hermione hadn't felt this nervous about a presentation since her oral defense of her doctoral research in Advanced Charms. Actually, she might feel slightly more nervous this time. After all, she would be presenting her preliminary research on the interaction of healing potions with certain defensive charms to Severus Snape, Potions Master. She shuddered at the thought of what he would say if one small piece of her potions research was flawed. The plain fact remained that Severus Snape had conducted the most groundbreaking potions research in the world in the seven years since Voldemort's downfall. Why he had remained a professor at Hogwarts instead of taking a research post at one of the universities, Hermione had never understood.

~~~~

"Miss Granger, come in. It's so rare that I have visits from former pupils." Snape opened the door to her, the sarcastic twist to his lips belying the welcoming words.

'Thank God it's his office and not the classroom,' thought Hermione, her dream of the night before flashing through her mind.

"Thank you for seeing me, Professor." Her voice, she was pleased to note, was professional and courteous. She was determined to treat him as a colleague, to forget that he had ever been her own teacher.

"One could hardly refuse the request to meet with the rising star of academic charms." Hermione repressed her flinch at the mockery in his voice.

"Well, when I began to see the connections between my own research and the controversial paper you published last year in Ars Alchemia, I knew you were the only person who might be able to contribute to my work." Her eyes lifted to his, letting the honestly of her compliment sink in. He met her eyes and his eyebrows raised slightly.

"Very well, Miss Granger. Let's see what you think you have found."

~~~~

Four hours later, Hermione found herself striding at full speed through the entry hall of Hogwarts, heading for the enormous doors. She should have stopped in and visited Professor McGonagall, she might have said hello to some of the other professors, but she couldn't make herself slow down. It was only after she had cleared the Hogwarts grounds and apparated back to her apartment that she stopped moving. She let her shoulder bag containing all her notes fall to the ground and sunk into the nearby armchair. She let her head fall forward into her hands. Her fingers threaded their way into her hair as she took several deep calming breaths.

She had done it. She hadn't made a fool of herself, and he hadn't made fun of her. Much. In fact, in the heat of their academic discussions, he had dropped most of his condescension. He had almost seemed enthusiastic. Of course, he had made no promises to work with her, or even to see her again. But he had referred her to several new sources, even lending one of his own books to her since she had been unable to locate it. Surely this was encouraging.

Hermione laughed out loud as she felt relief flood through her. She could actually do this. This called for a celebration. And she'd have to do something about that dream. Maybe she could owl Kristoff? She hadn't seen him in months, but he had always been up for a little mutual tension relief when they had studied together. Yes, she would write him immediately.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for dubious consent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some smut, but not quite enough. Some plot, but not much. Please let me know what you think of it. I really do enjoy constructive criticism. Thanks to ColoraturaDesdemona for the beta.   
> Warnings: Slight unintentional non-con. You'll see what I mean. I only put this here for people who are extremely sensitive to that sort of thing.  
> Disclaimer: Don't own them. (Well, I guess Kristoff is mine, but I don't feel cause to brag.) I'm making no money from this, etc.

Chapter 3

 

Hermione was in bed with a man. His naked body warmed her own where they touched. She lay on her right side, head on his chest, left arm and leg thrown over him. She heard his breaths in counterpoint to her own.

She felt half asleep and quite relaxed. Perhaps more than half asleep, in fact. She felt a total unwillingness to move a muscle. He moved, however, shifting his arm to encircle her. His hand traced a slow path along her spine, fingers slightly course against her soft flesh. Hermione's body moved to press closer to him in reaction, a soft sigh escaping her lips. The hand continued to brush across her flesh, following the curve of her hip down to her leg.

Hermione felt contented, simply allowing this moment of pleasure as the hand traced a curving path down and back up her thigh. As the hand returned to her back, brushing along her buttocks in the process, Hermione lifted her left leg to press closer into his hip. The hand settled into slow circles on the small of her back. Hermione's thigh now pressed into his erection. She heard his brief moan with satisfaction as she shifted her leg again.

Still, she did not move to change her position. Her head remained nestled into his neck and shoulder. Her eyes, when she opened them, afforded her a dim view of his chest and stomach, along with the tangle of their legs. The repetitive circles he traced into her skin were causing a warmth to spread through her. With another small moan she shifted her body to lay half on top of him, giving him better access to her body. Beneath her, she felt the brush of his chest hair against her nipples. Both of his hands now moved across her skin, the left replacing the right at the small of her back. His right hand traced her thigh once again before sliding between her legs. Hermione made a noise of longing as his fingers ghosted over her folds, but did not part them.

"You're awake now, aren't you?" That voice was deep, teasing, and amused. It sent a shiver through her. "Well, come here then." With this last , he lifted her suddenly, positioning her fully on top of him. Before she could take a breath, he had pulled her down and thrust himself inside her.

His cock felt impossibly big. He continued to thrust up, pulling and pushing her body with his movements. It seemed she could feel each stroke of his cock inside of her, feel it press into the flesh surrounding it in an impossible way. She was moving with him now, riding him, moaning as she did.

Suddenly, she was flipped onto her back and penetrated again. This was completely different.

He no longer filled her as he had, and his movements had lost their rhythm.

Hermione's eyes flew open and the man above her leant down to kiss her, open-mouthed. She gave a cry and turned her head away. Her eyes took in the strange bedroom, and then turned back to the face above her.

"Hermione? Are you ok?"

"Kristoff? What the hell?" She pushed both hands into his chest and he fell to the side, his cock sliding from her.

"What the…Hermione, you…I…" Anger and confusion warred in his eyes. Hermione gathered the rumpled bed sheets to her.

"I was fucking asleep, Kristoff! What the hell were you doing?"

"I thought you were awake, you were rubbing on me and moaning and what the hell was I supposed to think?"

"You were not supposed to start fucking me when I was asleep!" Hermione couldn't tell where her anger was originating, exactly. She didn't know if she was angry at him for taking advantage of her, for the violation of it, or because he had interrupted her lovely dream. And that dream was something else to be mad about. Apparently, sleeping with Kristoff hadn't been enough to stop her from having these dreams.

"Hermione, look, I'm sorry. Just calm down." Wrong thing to say.

"No, Kristoff, I will not calm down. You nearly rape me, and I'm supposed to calm down? I'm getting out of here." She stood then and began pulling on her scattered clothing,.

"Nearly….Hermione, I'm sorry. But, I didn't mean . . .Look, I understand you're upset, but don't you think you're overreacting?" At this Hermione turned to glare at him, contemplating all the words she could say. Eventually she just gave a furious shake of her head and continued to gather her things.

Kristoff followed her through the apartment, alternately apologizing and accusing. After she found her bag and her wand, Hermione turned to him.

"Goodnight," she forced out and apparated home.

After a long shower, Hermione lay in bed running the night's events through her head. Why had she ever thought contacting Kristoff was a good idea? He had always been an ass. She felt exhausted and humiliated and frustrated. She needed to focus on her research, not sex.

At the moment, however, she couldn't escape the images of her dreams. Her hand slid under her blankets, down her body, down between her legs. Her eyes closed, and her breath caught. She wasn't thinking of Kristoff any more.


	4. Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Dubious Consent, bondage, light whipping, domination.

"Miss Granger. Of course. You're back." Snape looked as if nothing could please him less. He turned his back on Hermione and stalked towards his desk. He turned in a swirl of robes and seated himself.

"I suppose you have read the reference material I gave you on your last . . .visit?" His eyebrows raised, his tone oozed condescension.

"Er, No, sir. Actually I haven't," Hermione replied, sounding vaguely surprised at herself.

"What?" Snape leaned forward. "What do you mean? Why are you here pestering me if you haven't even bothered to do your research?"

"I, I, I've been busy?" Hermione knew it was a lame excuse. _What was I thinking? Why did I even come here? _ "I had some personal . . .things come up." Flashes of Kristoff swam through her mind.

"Oh, well, I see," simpered Snape, "Personal . . .things. Perfectly understandable, Miss Granger. Perhaps you feel that this research is intruding into your busy social schedule, and it would be better to discontinue with our . . .partnership."

Hermione stood, rooted to the spot. She shook her head. "No, sir. It won't happen again. I promise."

"You promise?" Snape smirked, "Were you still my student, I would feel it my duty to remind you of your promise to ensure you would not forget. I would take house points away, perhaps. Perhaps a detention." Snape stood and moved to the side of his desk, closer to Hermione. "But now, what could I do to you?" He cocked his head slightly to one side, seeming to invite a suggestion.

Hermione was at a loss. She gave a small shrug of her shoulders, wincing immediately at the inadequacy of her response. Snape's eyes narrowed at this.

"Come here, girl!" The command in his voice brooked no denial. Hermione moved forward cautiously. "Closer!" She continued until she was mere inches from him.

"Very good. Now, to your punishment." Hermione opened her mouth to protest. Surely, he couldn't think to treat her like a student! Her protest died on her lips as Snape gave her a forbidding look. She suddenly felt how alone she was here with him, how vulnerable.

"Bend over the desk." This time, Hermione made no move to protest. She had accepted his dominance of the situation. She slowly lowered her torso onto his massive wooden desk until her face and breasts rested on the many parchments strewn across it. She sensed Snape move around to stand behind her. She suddenly felt her prim, pleated skirt lift away from her backside. Her whole body jerked with a sudden sense of violation. She moved to stand upright, but Snape's hand moved to the middle of her back, holding her in place. She felt something brush across the cotton covering her cheeks. It felt rigid, long and thin. She turned to look over her shoulder at Snape and saw he was caressing her with a black riding crop. Her eyes met his own, black, sparkling ones. She shivered.

"There now," Snape said with a flick of the crop against her buttocks. "You know you need to be punished, don't you?" Snape's left hand continued to drag the crop back and forth, while his right slipped under her blouse to run up her spine. Hermione shivered again, no longer able to ignore the throbbing warmth between her legs. She relaxed back onto the desk, her cheek resting on it's cool surface.

Snape bent down and softly pressed his lips to the small of her back. Involuntarily, Hermione felt her hips wriggle against him. She felt Snape's lips curve into a smile against her skin. He pulled back from her then, and Hermione heard the rustle of his robes. She heard Snape murmur something softly.

Suddenly, Hermione's hands were bound to the far leg of the desk, and when she tried to move her legs, found they, too, were tied to the desk. She must have made a noise of frustration, because she heard a soft laugh from behind her.

"Don't worry. I won't cause any permanent damage. But you have to learn . . ."

His hands came up then to tug at the waistband of her underwear. He lowered them to her ankles before bringing his hands back up to stroke her naked buttocks. His caresses were soft, almost tickling. Hermione found herself wanted more, wanted him to grab and squeeze, but his hands continued their gentle exploration.

"So soft, so young, so . . ._unmarked._ " With this last word, Snape removed his hands and very quickly brought the riding crop down across Hermione's cheeks. Hermione cried out with both surprise and pain. The first blow followed in quick succession by a second, and then a third. Snape was aiming with each stroke for an untouched area, and Hermione couldn't stop herself from gasping and whimpering with each one. Her cheeks were burning now, and yet, it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. She could smell her own arousal now, and feel the moisture between her legs. After one more blow, Snape began caressing her again, soothing her red flesh. His fingers traced the marks left by the whip, his fingers cool against their heat.

She heard him shift position, and then his tongue touched her skin, following the same paths as his fingers. He slowly cooled and soothed her burning cheeks with his tongue. She was making soft, incomprehensible sounds now, all feeling of shame and resistance melting out of her with the feeling of his mouth on her. Snape's mouth began to drift lower, his tongue pressing between her legs, seeking out her moist heat. She moaned outright as the tip of his tongue found her lips, pressing deeper to penetrate her. His hands were clutched hard now on her thighs, and he knelt behind her. His tongue pressed deeper and deeper within her; he was fucking her now with it. Hermione had long lost control of the sounds she made and the movements of her hips as she sought to give him better access. '

Snape replaced with tongue with his fingers as he sat back on his heels. Hermione heard a murmur and then realized she was no longer bound. She pressed back into his fingers, pulling her body into a standing position once more. Snape was standing now, too, the fingers of his right hand still exploring her folds, while his other hand came to rest on her hip. Hermione pressed her still-burning buttocks against his body, gasping at the press of the rough fabric. Two of Snape's fingers penetrated her, then, and she threw her head back onto his shoulder with a gasp. He bent down and began sucking and biting at her throat.

Hermione was overwhelmed with desire. She suddenly needed more. She turned around to face Snape, who ceased his attentions to her body. She grabbed his robe in two handfuls and pulled him backwards with her until her buttocks came to rest on the edge of his desk. She raised herself up until she was seated on the desk, her skirt bundled up around her waist. She released his robes and looked up into his eyes. She slowly and deliberately spread her legs with her hands until she was laid open to his view.

Snape smiled at her invitation, and with a complicated motion of his hand, he freed his cock from his robes. He stepped between her legs and she wrapped them around his hips as he pressed himself inside her. They pressed themselves together forcefully, both gasping at the sensation. Snape set a fierce rhythm, his hands on her hips guiding her movements. Hermione's own hands grasped at his shoulders as he thrust desperately into her. Their coupling was frenzied, both demanding and taking their pleasure from the other. Quite quickly, Hermione felt the pleasure begin to build and radiate throughout her body. She was crying out continuously now, moans and gasps and shouts escaping her with each movement. Snape grunted and growled above her as he drove them on towards orgasm. Hermione's suddenly threw her head back and gave a choking cry as the waves of pleasure finally crashed into an orgasm that caused her body to go rigid and her hands to clamp cruelly onto Snape's arms.

Snape barely seemed to notice that Hermione had stilled. He continued with his thrusts, all the time quicker and rougher. Hermione became suddenly aware of the pain in her buttocks where the edge of the desk dug into that sensitized flesh. As she began to catch her breath, she felt herself slipping off the desk. She tightened her legs around Snape, trying to keep them balanced. With a few more desperate thrusts, Snape stilled and let out a strangled cry.

Hermione's head rested on his shoulder, her eyes closed, and she slowly relaxed her muscles to slump against him. He was soft; she felt as though she were sinking into him, moving thorugh him, sinking . . .

Hermione opened her eyes, trying blearily to focus on something, her gaze coming to rest on the twisted bedspread around her legs. She closed her eyes again, the images of her dream flashing before her. _What in the world is wrong with me? They're just getting worse! _


End file.
